


Lux

by unscriptedemily



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Bath Sex, Canon Era, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Homecoming, M/M, ed is willing to humour him, for once! no angst!, it's amazing i know, roy is a giant sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7232053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unscriptedemily/pseuds/unscriptedemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy laughs, and at that moment the sun chooses to break out from behind one of the wisps of clouds, shafts pouring through the window and highlighting Ed’s hair as the brightest thing in the room, saturating him in gold until his head shines like a crown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lux

**Author's Note:**

> hello !!!!! i am not dead!!!!  
> i finished alllll my final exams Today and now i have a 12 WEEK HOLIDAY (!!!!) until the Next Stage Of My Education begins, but we're not gonna worry about that. during this holiday i will write so much. SO MUCH. anyway in the meantime here take this it's short but i'm working on finishing some Good STuff which will be a lot longer ! COOL  
> as always, enjoy, ur the best, etc <3

 

 The sky is streaked silvery gold, clouds gossamer and insubstantial as silk in the light breeze.  
Roy is standing in the doorway, struck suddenly dumb at the sight of Ed, deep in thought, curled in a loose bundle of limbs and automail on the window seat across the room from the door and Roy's all-at-once stuttering heartbeat. The creamy cotton of the seat matches perfectly with the shirt Ed is wearing- one of Roy’s, he realises, rumpled white and pale against his tanned skin; loose and half buttoned over his boxers, the hem flirting with the edges of the scar tissue at his knee where his flesh melds fluidly to metal. Once again Roy finds himself thinking that Winry Rockbell really is an unparalleled engineer; the automail limbs that she crafted for Ed are pieces of art, simplistic yet altogether savage things of beauty: smooth planes and curves where rough, jagged metal is the norm; hard armour and practicality where other prosthetics are weighed down with weapons and embellishments.

The curtains- swept back, a cream matching the cushions of the window sill- stir in a whisper of a breeze; light dapples the walls as though the room is underwater- if water was the colour of maple syrup.

All of a sudden it’s very obvious that Roy is living in a yoghurt advert. A natural blend with added honey flavour: Ed’s hair has been bleached lighter at the ends by the sun; his eyes- this would be the part when the camera pans straight to the golden, liquid depths of his irises; there is a metaphor about certain sugary, bee-produced condiments to be made here- stare narrowly out of the open window. Whatever Ed is thinking about it, Roy has no doubt that it will be earth-shatteringly intelligent and probably revolutionary: appropriate for someone who has saved the world on numerous levels, numerous times.

 

Ed looks up as he moves towards him, tearing his gaze away from the window as his eyes clear. He smiles at Roy, open and honest and quiet. It’s early, still; Roy only got back from the debate less than an hour ago but he at least got some sleep on the train journey in, while Ed’s eyes betray a sleepless night.  
  
There are books and papers stacked around him, as there always are, and even as he stretches Roy can see that part of his mind is faraway still, turning cogs and theorising and very likely coming up with something staggering and unparalleled that will rewrite the laws of the universe.  Just another day of the week for Edward Elric. Roy has never gotten used to that. He likely never will. 

“Good morning,” says Roy, unable and unwilling to keep the fondness out of his voice, and Ed wrinkles his nose at him in response.

Ed leans back into him and wriggles around until he’s comfortable and huffing a happy breath into Roy’s shoulder. “How was HQ?” he asks. The lack of ‘Bastard’, ‘Mustang’ or ‘General Shit’ tacked onto the end of the question betrays his tiredness. He always forgets to be mean when he hasn’t had enough sleep. Roy smiles into his hair.

“About as full of ‘pretentious bullshit exploitative bastards’ as you predicted it to be. I’m very glad to be home.”

“You kicked their asses in the debate,” Ed mutters, wriggling his back into Roy’s chest and letting out a contented sigh as Roy begins to comb his fingers through his bangs, “Heard you on the radio. ‘S good.”

Roy smiles helplessly again, winding his arms around Ed’s waist and leaning forward briefly to press his lips to his cheek, breathing him in. _God, I missed you._ “Thank you,” he says, “although, most of them did the work for me by choosing such laughably idiotic arguments, so I really can’t take all the credit.”

“Fuckin’ idiot generals,” Ed agrees. Roy watches his eyebrows draw together into a frown in the window’s reflection. “That asshole claiming ‘peace with Ishval is the coward’s way out’- I thought you were just gonna fuckin’ fry him. _Snap._ I would’ve backed you up. Said it was self defence. You were just protectin’ yourself from his shitty fucking opinions.”

Roy laughs, and at that moment the sun chooses to break out from behind one of the wisps of clouds, shafts pouring through the window and highlighting Ed’s hair as the brightest thing in the room, saturating him in gold until his head shines like a crown.

“Were you awake all night?” Roy asks as Ed bites back a yawn, squinting into the sunlight, “I’m sorry. The trains were ridiculous, I should’ve called ahead to tell you I’d be later than I thought.”

Ed reaches backwards the smack at his arm, surprisingly gently. “Nah. ‘S fine, I’d’ve been up anyway…Al sent me a whole bunch of research from Xing and, I dunno, I think we might be onto something.”

“Knowing you, it’s probably going to be at the very least groundbreaking, and quite possibly world-redefiningly incredible,” Roy says, and carefully moves some stray papers from the seat to the floor so he can move to sit beside Ed. He looks momentarily confused at the change of position, until Roy sits to face him, leaning to cup his face and kiss him gently.  
  
For a long moment they just breathe each other in, legs curled beneath them in a warm, lazy tangle; and this window seat is officially one the best interior-design based purchase Roy has made so far. Top three, definitely. Another being the _very_ spacious bathtub, which, if things go according to plan, he and Ed can spend this evening testing out.

Ed tugs firmly on his collar, making a satisfied noise into Roy’s skin as he pulls away to bite- not softly; Ed is rarely soft, even when sleep deprived and bathed in heavenly light- at Roy’s neck, leaving a trail of marks down to where he sucks at his clavicle. Roy groans, Ed teasing out the edge of a hiss from his lips as he grins wickedly into Roy’s collarbone.

“You should get some sleep,” Roy tries, and Ed pulls back to give him a deeply unimpressed look before leaning in, sweeping his thumbs- one cold, one warm- over Roy’s cheekbones.

“By this point I’m a fucking pro at pulling all-nighters,” Ed tells him, “So maybe you should learn to _shut the fuck up_ some time.” Roy raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking into a grin as he reaches up to thread his fingers loosely in Ed’s hair.

“And that’s your professional advice, is it?” he murmurs, leaning in very slowly to breathe the words millimetres over Ed’s lips; their noses nudge against each other as Ed watches him, smiling lazily.

“Damn right it is,” he replies, closing the distance to press their lips firmly together before he pulls Roy close with one hand in the material of his shirt, drawing their chests flush together as he takes Roy’s lower lip in his teeth and sucks hard. Roy closes his eyes, letting Ed’s faint laugh wash over him as they kiss again, and again.

“I missed you,” he says, eventually, breathlessly. Ed stops attacking his earlobe long enough to say,

“Next time you have to go kick ass in a conference room, tell ‘em to bring the party _here_. Ten hour train journeys are fucking bullshit.”

Roy nods, frowning mock-thoughtfully as he ducks down to trail lips along Ed’s jawline; Ed tilting his head to the side with a murmured _oh_ that makes Roy’s heart thrum and heat curl through his veins, “I’ll get Riza to draft a letter immediately,” he promises, fingers skimming feather-light around the top of Ed’s half-open collar as he drags his mouth slowly down Ed’s bared neck, “ ‘All debates now to be held in my sitting room, signed general R. Mustang.’ And all the other politicians will have to wait for _me_ to decide the times and dates, because what’s the point of sticking to a pre-drawn schedule when my boyfriend could suddenly strike me breathless with adoration and the urge for impromptu sex at any moment of the day?”

“I’m not listening to a single thing you’re fucking saying,” Ed says, voice rough, “but that is only because your voice is- shit, Roy-,”

“My voice is shit?” Roy teases, and Ed yanks at his hair.

“Yeah, shut the fuck _up_ ,” he says, “I hate you. Take your shirt off.”

“Yes, sir,” says Roy. Ed’s eyes go to dark, intent-filled gold and he draws back to undo the- few remaining, now- buttons on his own shirt. Roy takes his time, pulling his shirt over his head and watching Ed’s face as he tracks his gaze over Roy’s skin; when he licks his lips Roy drops the clothing to the floor and leans in, ghosting Ed’s lips with his own as he murmurs, “See anything you like?”

Ed’s smile is full of teeth and rough edges. He pushes Roy back, both hands on his shoulders, and drags his fingers down over his chest, over his stomach, brushing over the scar tissue at his side and slipping just under his waistband.

“Think I might,” he says, and Roy is dizzy just at the sight of the muscles moving in his arms, in his shoulders; Ed’s skin is not flawless, not by a long shot. It is peppered with scars and old bruises, and some of them are big and puckered and discoloured, but _none_ of them are ugly. Roy looks at him, the man in front of him, who by age twelve had achieved more than most adults would in their whole lives, who by age sixteen had battled a god and saved the world, and who now, at twenty-four, is already starting various intellectual revolutions and being hailed as a hero and a legend across every country in this universe-  
Roy looks at him, and he smells of coffee grounds and sea salt and faint woodsmoke mixed with the edge of machine oil, and he takes in his scars and his eyes, levelled right back at him, and is blown away by the sheer _reality_ of him all over again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ed asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Roy, moving as if to cover his bare chest, and Roy lunges forward to catch his hands.

“You- Edward, you are so beautiful,” he says, as fervent as he’s ever felt in his life, and Ed’s eyes dilate rapidly as the blush clambers over his skin. “Believe me. Sometimes I look at you and I can’t even formulate clear thought because of it.”

“Don’t- shut up, asshole,” Ed mutters, self-conscious, but he lets Roy wind their fingers together, and he holds his hands just as tightly. Roy grins at him, unable to help it.

“You can try and make me,” he says, very sincerely, “but it won’t stop it from being true. You’re beautiful. I apologise for gaping sometimes; it’s just that occasionally I just can’t believe that you’re really _real_.”

“You’re a flirt,” says Ed, still bright red, and clears his throat. “Whatever. Fucking kiss me or something, I’m getting cold.”

The air blowing through the open window is indeed taking on a chill, and Roy nods slightly, stands up: _or something_. He tugs Ed up with him, their hands still interlinked, and smiles as he bends down, Ed rising to meet him; their lips slide together as if they were made to fit each other; Ed swipes his tongue over Roy’s, drives the kiss deeper, pressing Roy backwards until he either has to start walking or topple over.

Ed’s intentions become clear very quickly when Roy stumbles into the hard edge of the doorframe leading to the bathroom- he winces, and Ed releases him long enough to mutter, “Sorry, sorry, watch where you’re _going_ , jeez-,” and then dives back in to kiss him again, to explore every crevice of Roy’s mouth, tilting his chin and turning their kissing open mouthed and hot, hot, hot.

Roy reaches behind himself for the door handle and lets them in; they stumble back through the open door and Ed is already undoing Roy’s belt with single-minded intensity. In seconds their little remaining clothing is a crumpled pile on the floor and Ed is dragging his gaze sinfully slowly up and down Roy’s body, biting his lip in a gesture that _he_ probably doesn’t even notice but that Roy _definitely_ does-

“God, Ed,” he says, and he can’t _not_ kiss him, can’t bear to not be touching him now, and Ed makes a humming noise into his lips that Roy swallows whole. “God…”

“Isn’t real, doesn’t care, etcetera,” Ed finishes, and pulls at the hairs at the back of Roy’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. Just the feel of his fingers on Roy’s skin is enough to send him into overdrive; Roy breaks back to run a finger suggestively along the rim of the bathtub and Ed grins, slides his palm very deliberately down Roy’s stomach, stopping tantalizingly at his hipbone.  “Nice tub,” he says, deceptively casual; the look in his eyes is predatory and hungry and absolutely gorgeous; Roy would do anything for him, _anything._

“It is, isn’t it?” Roy agrees, looking down at Ed with dark eyes and wanting him, wanting him, wanting him. With superhuman strength of will, he does _not_ move his hands from his sides, does _not_ reach for Ed, does _not_ do anything but wait, and anticipate, and try to remember to breathe.

“Fuck, yeah,” says Ed, his fingers drifting infinitesimally lower, and takes a step forwards. “What d’you say we take it for a test run?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” says Roy, the words a purr as Ed takes another step forwards and tightens his hand on Roy’s hipbone, laughing dizzily into the kiss.

 

 

The water is hot, and there are _bubbles,_ and most of it is on the floor as Ed pants into Roy’s shoulder, the ends of his bangs wet and curled and sticking to Roy’s skin as he leans forwards, pressing his forehead into Roy’s neck, words lost in his hot breaths there; Roy rocks forwards, takes his hand out of Ed’s hair to reach lower and Ed looks up at _that_ , lets out a sharp gasp- caught on the edge of a whine- and a _fuck-!_ and Roy kisses him, kisses every bit of him he can reach.

He’s babbling and he knows it, but fuck it, he’s still half high on his victory yesterday in the debate against the opposition and the other half of him has long since burned away to nothing in Ed’s scorching presence. “I love you, _god_ I love you, Ed; you have no idea-,”

“Fuck- Roy, _shit_ , fuck, I- you-,” Ed is incoherent and incandescent, steam wreathing his image: arched back, eyes shuttered closed, words falling from his lips like water droplets. Roy would worship him forever, _will_ worship him forever if Ed permits it; wants to give him anything and everything he wants-

“-you’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, reverent and dazed and urgent, “Look at me; look at me, Ed,”

And Ed breathes out a shuddering breath, opens his eyes to look into Roy’s; one hand braced on the wall and the other gripping Roy’s shoulder hard enough to leave marks.

“You are so beautiful,” Roy tells him again, and Ed half-shakes his head but doesn’t, can’t look away; he rolls his hips and Roy thrusts up to meet him- “I’ve got you,” he says, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you; I’ll never, ever let you go if you’ll let me; I’ll give you anything, Ed, _everything_ -,”

“Oh holy fucking _hell_ Roy if you keep saying sappy shit I’m gonna-,” Ed breaks off, moaning drawn out and loud and _oh_ , Roy doesn’t know how he ever survived a day away from this.

“What?” Roy asks, smirking now, and Ed throws his head back to curse at the ceiling with wild abandon, “you’ll what, Ed?”

“Shut the fuck up and _fuck_ me,” he demands instead, and Roy laughs, changes the angle and- there is water _all_ over the floor, this is going to be _hell_ to clean up and Roy is giddy with not caring-

“Don’t worry,” he says, and kisses whatever wet beautiful expanse of skin is nearest him, “I am.”

 

 

“We’re going to get damp problems,” says Roy, lying in bed with Ed half on top of him, an arm and a leg thrown over him carelessly. Roy strokes Ed’s hair slowly, and sighs. Spectacular bathtub sex is well worth getting water in the kitchen ceiling, but _still_ …

“’Damp problems’,” Ed mutters into his chest, and shakes his head. “Just go the fuck to sleep, Roy.”

The curtains- closed now, dampening any light that struggles through- ruffle slightly in an invisible draught. Roy closes his eyes, smiles into Ed’s hair. The heavy weight pressing him down grounds him. He can’t sleep without this, not really. He’s home.

“We’ll see what you have to say about ‘damp problems’ tomorrow when you get to be the one to call the repairman,” Roy says, and Ed kicks him in the leg.

“If I have to I’ll draw you an array and you can transmute that shit,” he says, and lifts up his head to glare at Roy before thumping it back down into his shoulder. “Now you’re fucking making me _talk_ about this,” he groans, “just go to sleep! Jesus fuck.”

Roy smiles up at the ceiling. “Okay,” he says. Ed kicks him again.

“ _Sleep_.”

This time, Roy doesn’t say anything. He sighs, fits his arm more securely around Ed, and kisses his hair. He’s glad to be back.

 

 

 


End file.
